


Waiting for the Burn Out

by bootson



Series: This is What's Left verse [1]
Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance, Panic At The Disco
Genre: Alien Abduction, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Science Experimentation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-29
Updated: 2011-07-29
Packaged: 2017-10-22 02:47:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/232900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bootson/pseuds/bootson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mikey woke up shaking, hot, and screaming.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Waiting for the Burn Out

**Author's Note:**

> [](http://hc-bingo.livejournal.com/profile)[**hc_bingo**](http://hc-bingo.livejournal.com/) **prompt:** Electrocution  
>  This is the standalone first part of the _This is What’s Left_ ‘verse, shared with [](http://dr-jasley.livejournal.com/profile)[**dr_jasley**](http://dr-jasley.livejournal.com/).

Mikey woke up shaking, hot, and screaming. Quickly, quick as possible, he got himself under control. He bit down hard enough to taste blood, but it muted his voice. As suddenly as it had started, it stopped. Mikey hadn’t noticed the way his muscles had locked down until everything suddenly released. His head was still fuzzy, teeth rattling as fine tremors raced through him with the aftershocks. His throat felt burnt.

Not for the first time since everything had started – or stopped, depending on Mikey’s mood – Mikey silently begged for death. Or for Gerard to show up and fix everything. Or for Pete to show up so Mikey could punch him in his fucking face.

A buzzing sound started up, simple white noise at first. The non-threatening buzz grew louder, more sinister, until every hair on Mikey’s body stood up with the electrical charges filling the room. Willing himself to black out never worked, but Mikey tried. He tried to think of nothing, hoping he could control the way his body preemptively twitched with anxiety.

Adrenaline was racing, but Mikey ignored his need to flee, run until he couldn’t anymore, then fight his way around or through the Udonians. His limbs were too heavy to do more than wish it so he just… stopped.

Taking tiny, sharp, hissing breaths through his teeth, Mikey focused instead on _before_ all this. He focused on the way Gerard had looked, all rumpled and bleary-eyed when he got up to make coffee and wish Mikey luck on his call back interview. Mikey spared a thought for Pete and how he’d begged Mikey to apply for the open position in Pete’s department. Mikey thought about the bullshit personality test he’d taken that Pete had fucking failed to warn him about.

Pete was probably back planet-side now. Mikey wondered if he had any idea what had happened, wondered if Gerard had tried to track Pete down when Pete was still off-world.

It had been weeks – probably, maybe – by now. Someone had to have noticed Mikey was missing. The Udonians were good, were fucking brilliant and all tight and shit with the government, apparently. But _someone_ knew; someone had to have –

The static in the room coalesced and Mikey whined. The first wave hit softly, a fine current of positive charges… or negative… was there a difference? Which one made more sense? Frank would know; Frank wasn’t here…

A yell tore out of Mikey’s throat when the charge jumped, a higher shock starting at the metal headband around Mikey’s skull and rolling through his body in random twitching waves.

Or maybe the waves and twitches were controlled. Someone was running the controls, modifying the electricity for whatever reason. Mikey had seen them often enough, seen their suits and coats and traditional Udonian high-collared apparel. He fucking knew they were scientists… so maybe they were controlling the twitches. Maybe they had different shock patterns to cause different reactions.

Maybe Mikey just didn’t give a fuck anymore.

He whimpered when he felt like it, bit his lip to draw blood when he wanted, yelled curses and shook, always shaking.

Then it stopped and Mikey realized he wasn’t breathing. And, fuck, he hurt – more so than usual. His eyes teared, coughs forced out of his burning lungs. He kept shivering.

Mikey held his breath and closed his eyes, clenched his fists and thought of Gerard and home and tried to hang on just a little longer. Gerard was coming. He’d have a plan by now. He would; Gerard always did.

The air crackled again, shifted through the room, and Mikey laughed.

“Fucking bring it.”

“Probably should save your voice,” someone said from the doorway.

So it hadn’t been electricity cracking, not more experiments starting. Mikey should know learned the difference between electric crackles and the mechanisms of the door by now. Whatever. Everything here was all the fucking same.

The owner of the voice came closer when Mikey didn’t try to see him. The sound of movement was more of a shuffle than actual footsteps. That, coupled with the lack of accent and broken English meant this person was… from home. Mikey tried not to get his hopes up. The person – a man, a young man – stopped when he shifted into Mikey’s line of sight.

“You’re bleeding,” he pointed out, reaching out a thumb to wipe at the red smudges on Mikey’s bottom lip.

“Not the worst thing about today,” Mikey muttered.

The other man shrugged. “I hear that it gets better.”

If he hadn’t been so exhausted, Mikey would have quirked an eyebrow. “Hear? You’re not a lab rat, too, then?” He probably shouldn’t start a conversation, but Mikey was so fucking tired of just hearing his own voice, the Udonian nonsense language, and the crackles of electricity.

“No,” the man mumbled. He brought a hand up to ruffle his own hair, making it stick up more. He was fidgeting with the buckles of the restraints around Mikey’s wrists. “I’m domesticated.”

The restraints came loose and Mikey fell, limp, back against the slab he’d been given as a bed. He blinked up at wide brown eyes and felt the sneer take over his face. “They’re made you a fucking _pet_ What the fuck.” That’s something Mikey didn’t have a word for; Gerard would have.

The man’s chin tilted up and he met Mikey’s eyes with this oddly vacant stare, like he saw what was happening but didn’t have any sort of cognitive functioning going on.

“No. I’m Brendon. I live here. Sometimes.” He reached up again, wiping more blood from Mikey’s mouth before Mikey sucked his lip in. Brendon removed the metal straps from around Mikey’s temples then stepped back. “We’ll need something for your burns. Then it’s lunch.”

“What?” Mikey blinked, sitting up slowly. “I don’t…”

Brendon reached for his hand and eased him down. When Mikey was staying upright on his own, Brendon still didn’t let go. He was gripping Mikey’s hand a little desperately, but Mikey couldn’t bring himself to shake Brendon off. “It’s easier to just go with it. Who are you?”

“Um… Mikey?” His body was still shaking or maybe it just felt that way. It was the only reason Mikey had for meeting Brendon’s clutching halfway and clinging like it was a lifeline.

Brendon just grinned, subdued but seemingly real and patted Mikey’s frizzy hair down.


End file.
